Monday, February 1, 2010

I can't think of a better way to spend a below freezing and so windy I had tears streaming down my face kind of night than IN with a great bottle of red and homemade pizzas. Throw a little friendly competition into the mix and you've got the makings for something quite epic.

Although my competitor claimed to have never made pizza before, we turned towards each other (à la a scene in an old Western dual) at Whole Foods to find the exact same ingredients in each other's baskets. I mean, really, what are the odds? Being the incredibly generous, kind, and adaptive person that I am, I allowed him to continue with his original plan as I ditched my mushrooms and headed for the prosciutto. A wedge of Taleggio was tossed into my basket as a threat to his truffle oil.

2007 Vitiano (Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Sangiovese Blend) to sip while cooking is an absolute necessity. Incidentally, it was also incredibly delicious and from what I hear, a great value. Seek this guy out.

Pizza # 1 came out of the 450F oven and was topped with arugula, thrown back in for a minute or two, and then was drizzled with truffle oil right before serving.

Pizza # 1 completed.

The dough for pizza # 2 was brushed with garlic oil, thinly sliced white onion and torn pieces of Taleggio. Into the oven it went until the crust was a golden brown and the cheese had melted evenly into a pool of divine and slightly pungent gooey-ness.

Once Pizza # 2 was out of the oven, it was topped with thin slices of Prosciutto, sliced plum tomatoes, baby arugula and a generous drizzle of a balsamic reduction.

Both pizzas were absolutely delicious. I'm still not entirely sure which was more enjoyable: the time spent making them or devouring. Alas, a third party was most definitely needed to come in and play the role of unbiased judge. Which is where you all come in to play. Which pizza reigns supreme? The caramelized onion, mushroom, and arugula with truffle oil and white sauce OR the tallegio and white onion pizza with prosciutto, baby arugula and balsamic reduction drizzle?

Go vote in the comments section!

*A good tip: If and when you're faced with a kitchen with no pizza stone or baking sheet (as we were this weekend), remove one of the racks from the oven and cover it with aluminum foil. A little spritz of cooking spray or a drizzle of olive oil and you're good to go. Now you have no excuses. Get on in the kitchen and make your own 'zza!

This is a really tough match-up. I made pizza's this weekend and it's so nice to see different combo's! I'm definitely going to make BOTH of these next time I'm workin the pizza stone. If i had to make a choice (which is almost next to impossible) I might go with #1 because I can never say no to truffle oil.... however, proscuitto and arugula is another favorite combo. Good competition!

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kiira [dot] leess [at] gmail [dot] com

who i am

When faced with the question of what food means to me, conversation inevitably shifts to my Mor-Mor (Swedish for Grandmother): A phenomenal cook who refused help in the kitchen and didn't believe in recipes. The real deal, if you will.

Mor-Mor had a seriously strong hand with garlic (surprisingly for a Swede) and an innate knack for making anything taste implausibly delicious. There was always a jar of homemade garlic oil in her fridge which found its way drizzled on top of almost everything. Like one of her breakfast treats: homemade bread slathered with garlic oil, a few slices of granny smith apple, and topped with extra sharp cheddar. Into her beloved toaster oven they'd go until the cheese had just melted, lovingly, over the apples. The salty-sweet combination could make your head spin—a beautiful cohesion of flavors and textures from such an unexpected pairing.

And then there were her meatballs. With her homemade tomato sauce made from tomatoes grown in her garden, picked when perfectly plump and warm from the summer sun, a ladle of garlic oil, and tons of parsley (Mor-Mor may or may not have been secretly Italian), they sent eyeballs rolling to the backs of people’s heads. The thought alone of her in that kitchen makes my heart long, once again, for her cooking. For her.

Now when I'm cooking, I finally understand her insistence on navigating the kitchen alone. There's something about getting in there and winding down and having your own personal space to create that’s beyond therapeutic—it’s wholly fulfilling and soul-satisfying.